Mother
by WillowPillow
Summary: My story on Paul and the death of his mother in 1955. So... yeah...
1. Chapter 1

Today was normal. Pretty bland in fact. Ms. Laning was lecturing us on something I'm not even sure of right now. Dividing fractions, blah blah blah, something. I was in my own world anyway. I stared out the nearest window daydreaming about going home, maybe. Anywhere but here. A shiver when up my spine when Ms. Laning slammed her ruler down on my desk.

"Mr. McCartney! Is this boring you? Do I have to send you down to the office?" I cringed at the sound of her voice. Ms. Laning was the only teacher who could really bring out the worst in me.

"No, of course not, Ms. Laning! This class is just absolutely enthralling!" Some kids braved a few chuckles.

"Mr. McCartney, don't be cheeky with me, I will not tolerate that kind of behaviour in this classroom!"

"Well, ma'am, maybe I should just leave then." I smiled happily.

Her face was getting red. "Young man, I have every right to phone your-!" A low knock came from the door, stopping her mid-sentence. She turned and paced toward the door.

She sighed. "Okay everyone, silent study, I'll be right back." She glared at me and I only grinned and smally waved back. The door slammed loudly and everyone became absolutely wordless. The entire class wanted to hear what was going on out there. I stared intently out the small door window. Within what only seemed like a few seconds of being out there, her entire expression fell flat and all colour left her face. Like a zombie, she nodded slowly at whomever she was speaking to and turned back to the door. She opened it slowly and her line of vision fell directly onto me. Why is she looking at me like that? Her face is all twisted and ugly. I didn't like it. She cleared her throat. "Paul?", her voice was softer than before. "Would you come out here please?" My heart sank as did my smile. Oh god, I'm in trouble now. The police are probably out there ready with handcuffs and the squad car. Everyone else seemed to think that too because they all simultaniously gave me a look of, "Ooooh, you've done it now McCartney...".

I slowly and cautiously approached the door only trying to imagine my fate on the other side. I walked out of the room and into the hallway. Standing there was the principal and Michael. He was crying. Not even crying, he was sobbing. He must've hurt himself again. They always bring him to me when he get's hurt because apparently I'm the only person here who knows how to calm him down.

"What's wrong, Mikey? Where'd ya hurt yourself?" I looked him up and down looking for any cuts or bruises. He couldn't even respond to me from crying so hard. Even his face was beginning to look a little purple. "Michael? Michael what's wrong? Answer me!" I started to panic. I'd never in my life, or his for that matter, seen him ever this upset. I looked at the principal angrily. "What've you done to him? You bastard, what have you done to my brother?" It genuinely was starting to upset me seeing my little brother like this. Ms. Laning looked down at me with that stupid look still plastered on her face. Stop looking at me like that! She kneeled before me and placed both of her veiny hands onto my shoulders. "There's nothing wrong with _him_, Paul." She bent her head down and then looked back up at me. My heart was racing with anxiety. I wasn't even sure if I wanted to know anymore. If there's nothing wrong with _him_, then what in God's name is making him act like this, I wanted to ask. She inhaled deeply. "Paul," her eyes were glistening. "You're mother passed away this morning."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: This is the second (and last) part of my story. This one is in George's point of view and is longer than the last part. I just wanted to say thank you to you guys for all of your nice reviews. They really made my day. (: I love you guys so much!**

**Your author,  
>Kelli 3<strong>

She handed me all of his work. "You're good friends with Paul, right?" I nodded. The teacher smiled dully. "Would you mind bringing him the work he's missed?" It had been over a week since Paul had even showed up for school. I mean I understand the circumstance and everything, it just seemed like it had been a really long time that he had been out.

"No, I could get it to him I guess." I tried to smile at her but Paul's teacher just really creeped me out. She pat my head in return and then sat back down at her desk I suppose give me the signal to get out of her room. I just nodded again and spun on my heal out of the room.

As I got off the bus at the "wrong" stop, everybody who normally walked by there at that time of day stared at me probably wondering why I was even here. I wanted to just hold up the pile of work above my head and shout, "I have to bring him his work! It's all okay!"

I walked along the sidewalk reading all the numbers to keep myself busy. The walk from the bus was unusually long to get to Paul's house. '1006,' I read to myself. '1008, 1010, 1012, 1014, 1016, 1018...' I finally stopped after some time. 1034 was the house number. I looked up at the house. It looked darker than the others. Only one of the rooms had lights on. I walked up the path and stared at the door for about a minute. I didn't know whether to knock or not because I felt like I'd be interrupting some sort of mourning process. I knocked anyway. I heard distant footsteps descending the stairs and getting closer to the door. The door opened slightly and I could make out Paul's dad's face. I swallowed.

"I- I" I stuttered. "I brought Paul some school work." He smirked smally in some sort of appreciative way and opened up the door the rest of the way and invited me in.

"Paul's upstairs in his room, George. You know where it is..." He pointed his finger at the stairway. I started up the stairs, nearly tripping at first from the heavy load. At the top, I turned left and stopped at the second door. I couldn't tell if any living being was in the room at the moment. The inside of the room was very quiet and the lights weren't on. Did he lie to me? I stood there for a moment and decided to go in anyway. Even if Paul wasn't in there, I could just leave the work on the desk. I was finally able to open the door by turning the knob with my elbow. The door flung open, fast at first then slowing down to reveal the bed in the right corner of the room. Paul laid there holding something and looking intently at it. Seeing it was me standing at the doorway, he quickly tried to shove the round silver object under his pillow but missed. It tobogganed down the sheets and shattered on the floor.

"No, fookin' hell! God, no!" The panic flooded his eyes as he leaped off his bed and onto the ground to collect it. He slowly turned around the silver piece out of the shards of glass littering the wood floor. His whole body fell despair as he stared into the silver. His jaw dropped and slowly he brought his hands up over his eyes. He shook his head furiously.

"No, no, no, no, no, no, no... that's all I have left... God no, why..." he repeated as his voice began to waver. I approached him cautiously, setting down all the work onto the desk. I kneeled down beside him and looked at the silver. It was a picture frame. The picture was an old folded up photo with a women on it. Mary.

I turned to him and touched his shoulder. His head shot up fast like he was scared of the contact. Tears streaked down his reddened face.

"I..." He wiped his face with a loud sniff. "I'm sorry, George. You're here and I shouldn't be crying like this in front of you. I can't..." Paul broke out in a sob and looked back down at the floor. My face fell into a look of desperation for him.

"I just know it..." He managed to croak. It was muffled from his hands covering his face. I could feel a lump beginning to move up in my throat. "Know what, Paul?" He lifted his head so I could see his face again. He looked so hurt. His face was distorted with smudged tears and a bright red glow and everything about him looked like somebody had ripped all he had away from him. Everything was different about him now. Mary must have took everything with her and left him here. I felt like the older one now trying to help this now only helpless little kid.

"She's not coming back, is she?" Paul's voice was meek.

I hesitated. "I'm sure she will maybe-"

"No," he mumbled. "No, she's gone! Agh!" He slammed his hand down into the glass shards and let out a yelp while drips of blood pooled up on his palms.

A tear fell down my cheek no matter how hard I tried to conceal it. Paul was disintegrating into something completely unrecognisable right before me and I didn't know how to stop him. I grabbed him around the neck and pulled him close to me. Without hesitation he collapsed onto my chest. He began to shake violently with sobs. Heart wrenching cries filled the room as I tried to keep him together. I cradled the back of his head with my hand and rocked him back and forth. I awkwardly tried to figure out something to say. I'd never had to do anything like this before.

"Please don't cry, Paul. It's okay. Shhh, calm down now, it's going to all be alright." I soothed as best as I could. Paul moved his face back and forth his face into my shoulder. "I," he gasped for air. "can't," he gasped again. "No, it's fine. You don't have to talk." He continued to cry harder. There was a pause. "She'll come back for you one day..." I heard a muffled whimper. "You just have to wait for her."

"Don't leave me too..." I shook my head. "No, I won't leave you. I'll stay with you as long as you need me to."

I still wasn't sure what I was doing so I sat there with him for the night until he fell asleep and, for the first time, smiled. Paul wouldn't stay broken. I couldn't let him do that.


End file.
